Agent of Storms
by Oni Arashi
Summary: My character Oni Arashi is solitary, defiant, and hates authority. One would expect him to be a freedom fighter if he were in the Matrix. The problem is, that he is cruel, harsh, abrasive, and downright evil. So he could only be an Agent... A very awkward
1. Default Chapter

I do not own the Matrix. The Matrix owns me. And it owns you. The only thing of this story that I own, is the character Oni Arashi.  
  
Read on, Duracell.  
  
The Agent of Storms  
  
By Oni Arashi  
  
With his fierce tropical blue eyes, he looked down on the seemingly broken man before him. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked stolidly around him, circling him with a look of smug satisfaction on his face. He flicked a piece of his silky silver hair away from his face and spoke, holding back a smile. "Well well, Mr. Anderson. I must admit, you were quite the challenge. In fact, I cannot remember having fought somebody of your skill.ever. I hope that is some satisfaction to you, before I finish you." A broad smile replaced the silver-haired agents expression, it was a surprising thing, that this Agent appeared to be much, much younger than any other, appearing to be about eighteen, or perhaps nineteen. But of course, like any other agent, he was just a hulking machine connected into the Matrix. The smile that he flashed made Neo genuinely afraid as Agent Arashi raised his foot up, and then slammed it down onto his neck. The Agent balled his hands into fists as he smiled with glee, twisting his heel into the soft throat. Neo's eyes bulged out and his hands grabbed at the dark fabric of the Agents pants.  
  
Neo could feel his life ebbing away, and all he could do, is wish that his mind were strong enough to realize that this was still nothing but an illusion. He pushed upward with all of his strength, which only made the suited man press down harder, increasing the force of gravity to give him more leverage. He held his head up and let out a disturbing cackle, but was caught off guard when a fist slammed into his temple. He was knocked halfway across the room, and he turned his head to see what had hit him, his eyes focusing on what appeared to be another Agent, simultaneously cracking his knuckles against his palm and tilting his head to the side, causing his vertebrae to crack as well.  
  
"I'm sorry, Agent Arashi. But I will be the only one killing Mr. Anderson today. That is going to be MY pleasure." Ex-Agent Smith was going to say more, but he was de-winded by the sudden flurry of knuckles to his gut. As he was doubled over, he felt the sharp blow of Arashi's elbow smacking into the back of his skull with extreme force. It was unbelievable. No wonder he had been able to beat down Neo. With speed like that.  
  
Arashi grabbed the warriors braid that had slipped from behind his ear with his thumb and forefinger, tucking the thin silver braid back in its place as Ex-Agent Smith pushed himself up from the floor, opening the shot. Agent Arashi shot his foot out, the tip of his shoe digging into the gut of Smith. Before that even registered into the Ex-Agent's mind, Arashi had swung his other leg up, his shin scooping into his ribs and sending Smith flying off of the ground. He was turned back to face Neo before Smith even crashed through the glass window, but The One was no longer there. His eyes probed, and quickly found him, limping towards the door.  
  
He was on Neo without hesitation. He backhanded him across the back of the head, sending his face into the brick wall. He raised his hand again, no longer interested in strangling Neo, but rather slowly beating him to death. He was interrupted as he could sense sharp metal aiming for his back, and he quickly stepped to the side to see a dark-skinned man, with a bald head stabbing at him with a delicately crafted katana, obviously using all of his will in an effort to destroy Arashi. Time seemed to be working on Arashi's side as he deftly pulled his arm up to his side and sent his elbow towards the man known as Morpheus. Morpheus's jaw opened in a gasping motion as the bony elbow slammed into his neck. All at once, time seemed to return to normal, and Morpheus was sent through the same window as Ex-Agent Smith. You would have expected to hear the sound of the deadly katana hitting the floor, but Arashi did not. Instead, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neo dive and roll with his shoulder, and stand up, Katana grasped firmly in his two hands. Agent Oni Arashi merely smirked at this. He knew that Neo would not be fast enough to best him, not nearly fast enough. He took a step forward, and all of a sudden, the wall behind him burst, several arms shooting out of nowhere to grab at him. Two arms hooked around his left shoulder, three were grabbing at his hair and some were even clamped to his abdomen and legs.  
  
Oni struggled forward, making little progress as he saw two copies of Smith walking through the broken doorway to his right, and even more behind them. He closed his eyes, concentrating deeply as he steamed forward, freeing himself from the grasp of the Smith's, and feeling liberated when the last hand and arm slipped away from him. His eyes then looked down, at the sharp metal sword slicing sideways across his neck, followed by a thin line of blood. Neo twisted around, his trench coat lifting up behind him as he drove the sword easily through the neck of the one and only Demon of Storms, and as soon as he had made a 180 degree turn, he began to run, gunning for the open window, as more Smith's poured into the room. Arashi's body stood solidly as his detached head flew up into the air, blood spraying out of control. 


	2. Template

Disclaimer: Wish I owned it, then I'd be rich.  
  
Note: Agent of Storms was supposed to be a one-chapter short story, but due to the encouragement of quite a few people, I am continuing. But at my own pace. When the ideas come, I'll use them. That's just how I do it.  
  
Read on, stop pretending you have something better to do.  
  
The Agent of Storms Chapter 2: Template  
  
Clank! The hammer hit the handle of the sink, and the annoying squeaky noise stopped. He scratched the belly that protruded from his under-sized white T-shirt and then the man proceeded to lumber back to his sofa. As he sank back into the grooves that had been worn into the sofa by years of sitting, he reached for his beer. After taking a few gulps, the unkempt man set the beer onto the coffee table, amidst the circular stains which marked its surface from the condensation of water on amber beer bottles.  
  
He looked at the old television with hollow eyes, turning up the volume to tune out the sound of the busy New York street below him. At least he had shut up that damned faucet. He grabbed a handful of the three day old Doritos that were on the corner of the coffee table, and he lazily munched them, as if even eating were work. Channels flipped by on the TV screen and his dulls eyes scanned them. He gulped down the stale, halfway chewed chips.  
  
Squeeeee. That damned faucet. He squinted his eyes. He hated that sound, what would it take to make it go away? The sound shifted. It was still high-pitched, but now there was something familiar about it. It pulsated, and kept changing tones. He had occasionally heard that analog to digital melody when screwing up phone numbers, or when his wife's kids were. about to get on the internet.  
  
He twitched. It was an involuntary movement. He shook his head back and forth, and felt his body distort. All at once, he felt another consciousness well up inside of him, and it was almost as if the two could co-inhabit his body. He was now being devastated by violent tremors from his own body, and then he felt himself being cornered. If he could've escaped, he would, but there was no where to go. His arm swung out, smacking his bowl of Doritos from the table. Somewhere at this moment, his body was being removed from a power plant, tubes and wires being ejected from his body, and he was being dumped into a vast sewer system. His body would drown, and die, not being able to swim because of his flaccid, unused muscles. And eventually a new battery would be inserted into his station, and along with billions of others, it would feed power to the machines that enslaved humanity. Forcing them to hide underground in the city known as Zion.  
  
A slender, soft hand adjusted the neck-tie and then reached for the cool beer on the table. He pressed it up to his sharply drawn lips and took a long sip. He made a mock sigh after that, as if truly refreshed by the alcoholic beverage. But of course, he was just a sentient program in a digital Matrix. A program designed to defend this false reality. He could not even taste the nonexistent drink. He tossed the beer to the floor of the messy apartment, the golden liquid spilling over the dirty carpet. As he stood up, he ran his hand through his shimmering hair, and then patted down his suit. His luminescent blue eyes found the nearest door, and he stepped towards it. His hand gripped the handle of the door and twisted it open. Before he walked into the hallway, he flicked the light switch off. And when the door was closed behind him, it was totally dark in the apartment. 


End file.
